Category: environmentalism

Solving the Mental Health Crisis: Taming Our Inner Madness

Posted on by japineda

According to polls, most Americans believe there is a mental health crisis afflicting society. They cite many factors for this calamity. Traditionally, the major sources of stress for a majority of adults have been personal finances, current and political events, and work stressors. Combine this with a rising sense of isolation, fear, and paranoia, especially in the aftermath of the COVID-19 pandemic, the opioid/drug outbreak, the war in Ukraine, political upheavals, etc. These unrelenting social concerns exacerbate stressors such as feelings of disconnection to traditional psychosocial and spiritual sources of support. Politicians and malevolent troublemakers stir this stew of discomfort by manipulating valid emotions to weaponise fear in the name of political expediency. When fear becomes crushing, it adds a sense of no place to turn to for honest and wise counsel, as opposed to politicized rhetoric, something once provided by parents, clergy, and counselors. Homelessness and mental illnesses in children, teenagers, and adults are the inevitable results.

Imagine including in this powder-keg of emotions many guns, increased far right activity and racism, gender biases, brief attention spans, impulsiveness, and lack of emotional control. It isn’t difficult to predict the rapid rise in violence. This explosive stew of individual and social ills leads to despair, being on guard, hypersensitivity — issues typically associated with PTSD-associated disorders. We are, in fact, being traumatized by what seems like an out-of-control life. And unfortunately, only about 20% of us seek and receive mental health services. This reluctance to seek solutions for what is obviously overwhelming chaos is blamed on uncomfortable feelings talking to loved ones about issues and concerns about privacy, plus the stigma that still attaches to mental problems.

If there is an answer, it’s going to take a wholistic approach—and a concerted and common desire to solve the problem. People at the individual, community and societal level have to decide they have had enough, reached bottom, and sincerely desire to address the problem seriously. Social solutions require community and communication, assets currently in short supply. Thus, I want to focus more on what can happen at an individual level and what each of us can do to help.

It might be helpful to get a handle on the root of the crisis to consider what psychologists have known for a long time. In order to feel truly human and live fulfilled lives, we have to meet certain undeniable needs. A good starting point is Abraham Maslow’s hierarchy of those needs. Maslow argued for at least three major categories: physiological, socio-psychological, and spiritual. Physiological needs (food, shelter, etc.) make up the basement level of our being and must be met first to provide a stepping stone into higher levels of being. Spiritual needs (what he termed self-actualization) might be considered the apex of human nature. Between the two are the socio-psychological (social connections) needs.

From this humanistic perspective, we can imagine the number of factors mentioned previously, which underlie the mental health crisis we are experiencing, working to disconnect us from sources that nourish and promote well-being. Homelessness, malnourishment, alienation, loneliness, and lack of moral structure are conditions that exacerbate the decline in mental health because they produce severe disconnection and do not promote and provide our human needs. From an economic and socio-political perspective these problems appear solvable yet have proven to be intractable.

There is a different way of seeing this calamity and to ask, is there more to life than this? For those lost in the chaos, what I am about to say makes absolutely no sense. Because to appreciate this perspective, one must move outside of the storm. Imagine a raging thunderstorm, tornado, or hurricane. If you are inside, nothing else matters—it is all-encompassing, pervasive, unending. Yet, outside of the region or by taking a plane and flying above the clouds, you can see something different. Likewise, it is paradoxical yet possible to know that underneath the apparent madness of life there is a subtle presence, grace and stillness that can be quite beautiful. We all yearn to touch that. Its grace is available to anyone who dares and cares. And it begins by taming our uncontrolled mind.

This poem comes from the Hua Hu Ching of Lao Tzu, who 2500 years ago knew this truth/solution to our modern problems. He provides the answer (discover the harmony in your own being) in a clear and direct way, or at the very least, points you in the right direction.

Why scurry about looking for the truth? 
It vibrates in every thing and every not-thing, right off the tip of your nose. 
Can you be still and see it in the mountain? The pine tree? Yourself?
Don't imagine that you'll discover it by accumulating more knowledge. 
Knowledge creates doubt, and doubt makes you ravenous for more knowledge. 
You can't get full eating this way. 
The wise person dines on something more subtle: 
He eats the understanding that the named was born from the unnamed,
That all being flows from non-being,
That the describable world emanates from an indescribable source. 
He finds this subtle truth inside his own self and becomes completely content. 
So who can be still and watch the chess game of the world? 
The foolish are always making impulsive moves,
but the wise know that victory and defeat are decided by something more subtle. 
They see that something perfect exists before any move is made. 
This subtle perfection deteriorates when artificial actions are taken, 
So be content not to disturb the peace. Remain quiet. 
Discover the harmony in your own being. Embrace it. 
If you can do this, you will gain everything,
And the world will become healthy again. 
If you can't, you will be lost in the shadows forever.

The Shattering

Posted on by japineda

My Shattered World by Mesa Teresita

Shattered science,

Shattered morality,

Shattered ego,

Shattered hopes,

Shattered world.

The world nowadays feels so fragmented, so shattered, it makes me reach for remedies in ancient wisdom. Today, I’m searching for answers in functional cosmologies, such as creation myths, which try to capture the enormity and essence of this discomfort. It is impossible to describe the world simply as something scientifically observed or something spiritually experienced because at some level it is both and more. Joseph Campbell, known for his work on comparative mythology and religion, said that his favorite definition of religion was a misinterpretation of mythology. The misinterpretation results from attributing historical substance to symbols that are spiritual in their reference. Thus, the personal, internal effort an individual makes to get in touch with matters related to an ultimate reality becomes spirituality, while religion reflects the external efforts made by the groups and communities of individuals trying to get in touch with such matters. One myth that seems peculiarly relevant to my theme is the Jewish Kabbalah story of creation.

The rabbi and Kabbalist Isaac Luria (1534–1572) developed this form of Jewish mysticism most rigorously in the sixteenth century. The reason the Kabbalah creation myth seems most helpful is that it extends and binds the search for conceptual truth with the search for the nonconceptual aspects of being. Another way of saying this is that the unity, differentiation, and integration aspects of the myth express first principles of creation that can guide my actions. First principles, such as Isaac Newton’s laws of motion, give foundational premises to the structuring of reality. This Kabbalah story suggests that the reason nature reflects such foundational principles is that they are fundamental, non-reducible, complementary, and necessary in how we came to be. Similar to models in physics, biology, and medicine, mythologies act as patterns of the human experience that help highlight these principles. 

The beginning of the Torah’s Hebrew text is the phrase B’reshit Bara Elohim. Thishas multiple interpretations. In contrast to the traditional interpretation of “In the beginning, God created…” the alternative interpretations are: “In (a) beginning created God” or “In (a) beginning of created God.” Both alternative interpretations contradict tradition and reality, for they imply either multiple creations of the universe or that God had a beginning. Such disagreements in the literal interpretation of the Torah have produced varied approaches in Rabbinic Judaism and in interpreting text in the study of the Torah.

Isaac Luria taught that in the beginning, God created the universe by a self-exile movement called Tzimtzum. In Hebrew, Tzimtzum means a stepping back to allow for the existence of an Other, as in something or someone else. Thus, God began creation by contracting his infinite light and this contraction occurred to allow for a conceptual space in which finite and independent realms could exist. God withdraws into self-exile to make space for the universe.

Kabbalah teaches that the Light of God always existed but needed to share, so it created an Other. The Light of God shared while the Other received – a perfect symbiotic relationship. But the Other, created in the image of its creator, also desired to share. To allow it the ability to share, the Light of God condensed further into a point of infinite density and infinite energy. In a great cosmic flash, this contraction exploded in every direction, presumably marking what we know as the cosmic Big Bang.

When the Light of God contracted it created the universe or Adam Kadmon, according to Kabbalah, and allowed life as we know it. The Big Bang not only created space, but allowed darkness and evil to become possible. In order for a finite world to exist, God’s light had to undergo several stages of refinement. In one of these stages, the light manifested as multiple individual qualities called Sefirot or attributes. These attributes acted as separate, independent points of light, or quanta of energy and composed the world of Tohu (chaos or disorder—which were the original conditions of the universe). Because of the intensity and exclusivity of the light and the inability of these vessels to contain it, the Sefirot of Tohu shattered. The fragments of the vessels then fell and became absorbed into the various worlds below the world of chaos. This breaking of the vessels, fragmentation, or differentiation became known as the Shevirah.

The order of creation that follows the disintegration of the world of Tohu or chaos is the world of Tikun (literally translated as rectification or restoration). During this period, God puts His light into new containers of light, animate beings, because these can do something that inanimate vessels cannot, and that is to work together interdependently, harmoniously, and thus contain and mirror the light back. These animate beings of light, or Partzufim (metaphorical figure of human likeness), work as symbiotic systems instead of the discrete, independent ones existing in the chaotic Tohu. Hence, God’s people, the Jews, appear in this evolution to repair the original shattered vessels by re-collecting the sparks of Light in the world that became trapped in layers of darkness. Tikkun olam is this re-collection, repairing, and reintegration of the fragmented world.

This Kabbalah myth, based on an alternative interpretation of the story of creation, comprises at least three fundamental phases. The first is God’s contraction, or self-imposed, self-limiting impulse called Tzimtzum, which allows for a differentiation of the Light to occur. During the Shevirah, a shattering of the inanimate vessels containing the Light into zillions and zillions of pieces occurs and a further differentiation of the Light that leads to the creation of the universe. The last phase is the appearance of animate beings for the re-collecting and repairing of the shattering, a reintegration called Tikkun olam. In sum, the original unity produces differentiation through a great explosion of being, only to be followed by reintegration and reunification of that unity. Whether this occurred once or is a great cycle depends on interpreting the phrase B’reshit Bara Elohim.

There is, at least for me, something hopeful, aspirational, mysterious, and beautiful in this ancient story. In it, humans practice a spiritual form of kintsugi, the captivating Japanese art of putting broken pottery pieces back together with gold — a metaphor for embracing our flaws and imperfections. By doing so, we recreate something wonderful, ancient, and healing.

MAY WE ALL BE HEALED!

The Conscious Anthropocene Revolution

Posted on by japineda
Self-awareness by Mark Manson

I heard the word Anthropocene for the first time recently in terms of the human impact on Earth systems and the way human presence is changing the planet. The perspective comes mainly from geologists and paleobiologists, but also anthropologists, archeologists, historians and social scientists. Basically, the argument is that human activity is now the dominant influence on climate and the environment. Indeed, “this has led to dynamic conditions in which Earth is operating under different boundary conditions than the epoch spanning the prior 11,700 years, which served as the cradle for advanced human societies under relatively stable environmental conditions.”

The implications are far-reaching for it suggests a change in Darwinian evolution, from one driven by “natural selection” to one driven by “anthropoid selection” or conscious evolution. Our presence on this planet has brought us to a clear tipping point in which environmental dynamics can change from those in which nature is the controlling principle to one in which humans are the driving force. The standard narrative at this critical junction is that we will tip over to a period of destruction, chaos, and the potential end to the human species. It is, I would argue, probably time for us to consider these dynamics from a religious and spiritual perspective to provide a more hopeful and balanced view.

Many of us drawn to the religious-spiritual sphere have felt a rising energetic change during the last several decades that we attribute to more and more people realizing their true nature as part of larger relational networks that include others, life, nature, and the cosmos. Until now, our disconnection from this great web of life has been the source of most of life’s pain, suffering, and struggles. As more people reach this new understanding and remember what we once knew, there is an increase in consciousness and in our responsibility to the planet. We notice the side benefits, including the larger numbers of people who try to do their part in recycling and cleaning up the environment, in helping others, and in turning the other cheek. The violence we see may obscure this gradual positive change, but this positivity is part of the predicted spiritual revolution that is to follow the Industrial and Information Age. Such a change coincides with a revolution in the science and understanding of the human mind. Indeed, many of us describe this period of change in spiritual terms as life becoming aware of itself. And like a toddler at this stage of development, we are making many mistakes, but we are learning quickly as well.

We find ourselves at a unique tipping point, the Anthropocene as increased awareness, in which we can either learn quickly to guide the dynamics in a positive direction or else usher in the catastrophe many predict. As I get ready to join a class of 2000 folks from all around the world, who for the next two years will focus their energies on being helpful to others by learning to be meditation teachers, I feel optimistic. My entire life, like those of many of my cohorts, has been about discovering the unity of being, the inherent divinity that we are, surrendering to the intelligence inherent in this unity, and wanting to help and inspire others. I am convinced that this small sample of the spiritual evolution is part of a larger conscious effort representing the gathering of life forces in the struggle to tip the balance in becoming conscious without destroying ourselves.

Some of you may react skeptically to this interpretation. Yet, this is not dissimilar to the message Jesus taught over 2,000 years ago. In John 14:10-12 of the New International Version of the Bible, he says, “The words I say to you I do not speak on my own authority. Rather, it is the Father, living in me, who is doing his work. Believe me when I say that I am in the Father and the Father is in me; or at least believe on the evidence of the works themselves.” In 1 Corinthians 3:16, Jesus goes further, “Do you not know that you are God’s temple and that God’s Spirit dwells in you?”

Richard Rohr, a Catholic priest for the past 50 years and bestselling author has commented that humanity was not ready for this revolutionary message 2,000 years ago, but maybe the time is now. The beauty of rediscovering that we are all part of something larger and wiser is that one can see this force at work in everything around, guiding us toward a unique moment of singularity. This is the conscious Anthropocene revolution.

Waiter, There is Something in My Primordial Soup: Tracing the Origins of Life

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“The essential message of life has been copied and recopied for more than three billion years, but where did that message come from?”

Neil deGrasse Tyson, Cosmos: A Spacetime Odyssey.

Research and discussions about origins, whether about the universe, life, or our own ancestry, have a sense of convergence to them. They help narrow down the infinite number of potential explanations to a select few or maybe even one. Along the way, however, assumptions are made, any of which could lead to a different conclusion.

Geologists estimate the Earth formed around 4.54 billion years ago. Yet, the origin of when and how life came to be on this planet is still unknown. Indeed, the earliest evidence of terrestrial life comes from fossils, known as stromatolites. These fossils are layers of single-celled microbes, known as cyanobacteria, discovered in Western Australia dating back to about 3.53 billion years. Since these bacteria were already complex organisms, the actual origin of life occurred much earlier. This is a “limit of horizon” problem and makes the scientific study of origins prior to single-cell microbes quite difficult (see Overcoming the Limits of Science). It also makes the natural chemical origin of life highly improbable.

As we explore the universe, its galaxies, stars, and exoplanets, we assume, given our limited understanding, that life requires unique circumstances to arise. One basic assumption is that the propitious location has to be within the habitable zone of a star. This means a location with a source of light, energy, liquid water, and biogenic elements such as carbon and other elements at the right temperature. The Earth certainly met those criteria.

From a basic thermodynamics perspective, life requires a constant source of power. Interestingly, life on Earth developed a single source of metabolic drive—that associated with transferring electrons by chemical reactions. Although living things can detect and generate other potential sources including magnetic, kinetic, gravitational, thermal gradient, and electrostatic, life used none of these for metabolic energy.

Second, carbon molecules gained the dominant role as the backbone of biochemistry for life. This is true not only on earth but, according to astrophysicists, the entire Solar System. Carbon is not only abundant, but the variety of chemical bonds it can form make it the basis of complex chains of different molecules. It is the LEGO brick of the chemical world. While carbon is necessary, it is not sufficient for life. An entire array of additional elements is needed for that, including water (H2O), nitrogen, sulfur, phosphorous, calcium, and potassium. There is no definitive list since it would depend on the organism considered (e.g., methanogens require high levels of nickel).

Third, any life based on molecules requires some kind of solvent to move around. Liquid is more ideal than gas or solid since water has unique physical and chemical properties making it well suited to support the complex chemistry required for life. For instance, water is the second most common molecule in the universe after hydrogen. Its ability to expand when it freezes keeps bodies of water from freezing into a solid. It can dissolve many substances easily and has a high heat capacity, which means it takes a lot of energy to change temperature. This is one major reason for the relatively moderate Earth climate.

Once these fundamental parts were in place, the next stage in the chemical origin of life likely involved the creation of complex molecules for a variety of functions. The most basic function being to convert energies into “food” and to organize, code, and sustain life. A variety of experiments have argued that life arose gradually from inorganic molecules, with “building blocks” called monomers, like amino acids and nucleotides, forming first. Monomers combined to polymerize or make more complex molecules called polymers, like proteins and nucleic acids. The last step required the creation of self-sustaining DNA and RNA polymers. This stepwise, spontaneous formation of simple, then more complex, then self-sustaining biological molecules—is still at the core of most origins-of-life hypotheses today.

Important questions remain. For instance, in living cells, enzymes put together polymers. Yet, enzymes are themselves polymers, so which came first is a kind of chicken-and-egg problem! One postulated solution is that monomers may have “spontaneously” formed polymers through some sort of catalytic accident. Experiments in the 1990s showed that RNA nucleotides link when exposed to clay, which acts as a template and catalyst to form an RNA polymer. However, another major roadblock is that polymerization is difficult in a watery environment. In fact, it requires the removal of water or dehydration. But, an even more troublesome issue is how polymers became functional and self-replicating. One possibility for replication is template-assisted ligation. However, one must also account for the ordering of amino acids in proteins and nucleotide bases in the RNA and DNA allowing them to function as sources of “information.” This ordering is what proponents of intelligent design call the “information sequence problem.” 

Besides organizing, coding, and sustaining life, another major aim of these early complex molecules was to convert light into a food source or metabolic energy. Nature solved this problem with the appearance of light-activated enzymes. Light activated proteins are common, but light-activated enzymes are rare, with only three known, making this development one of the more tenuous points in the history of life’s origin. Protochlorophyllide oxidoreductase or ‘POR’, is the enzyme responsible for making the pigment vital for chlorophyll in plants. Without chlorophyll, there is no photosynthesis; without photosynthesis there is no plant life; and without plant life there is no us. Photosynthesis is the process that uses light energy to produce sugars from water and carbon dioxide, while emitting oxygen, which became so vital to human life.

Chlorophyll’s basic structure is a porphyrin ring with a magnesium atom at its center. This structure is, perhaps not unexpectedly, very similar to that of the heme molecule, which is found in the hemoglobin in our red blood cells, with an iron atom at its center, and which carries oxygen to every part of our bodies. Because of its structure, chlorophyll absorbs light in the blue and red parts of the visible spectrum, and reflects the green light back to our eyes. It is why plants appear green.

Hence, as we peer back in time to understand where we came from, our analyses lenses blur as events become indistinguishable, making scientific explanations of life origins extremely difficult. Even the distinguished materialist scientist, Francis Crick, who along with James Watson identified the structure of the DNA, said, “The origin of life appears to be almost a miracle, so many are the conditions which would have had to be satisfied to get it going.”

Perhaps because of such difficulties, another idea called “panspermia” has gained credibility. Organisms from one world get a ride to another to spread the organic seeds of life. Launched into space aboard discharged bits of planetary debris, these building blocks of life could, upon arrival at another planet, survive and thrive—perhaps evolving into the diversity of life we see on Earth. Recent analyses of Martian meteorites show several organic compounds including key building blocks of life, i.e., amino acids, nucleobases, and phosphate. 

Or, then again, maybe life is a miracle!

Human Interconnectedness: Billiard Balls or Gooey Chocolate?

Posted on by japineda

Most of us are quite aware of how connected we are. This awareness has produced several ways to think about, describe, or view this connectivity. The ideas run the gamut from highly interconnected to loosely so. The extent to which the internet has made us aware of these relationships, with more people and more information from around the world, it has become front of mind. Since how we think about nature structures our reality of it, it seems necessary to reconsider how we might view our connections to others.

Many people view these interactions from the perspective that we are more like billiard balls that inevitably come in contact with other billiard balls as we run around the world doing our thing. It recalls the classic view of the structure of reality at the atomic level. That matter comprises extremely tiny particles called atoms originated about 2500 years ago by Democritus, a Greek philosopher. However, the idea was forgotten for approximately 2000 years. Then, at the beginning of the 19th century, the English chemist John Dalton brought back Democritus’ ancient idea of the atom. Dalton thought atoms were the smallest particles of matter and envisioned them as solid, hard spheres, like billiard balls. Currently, matter as energy, electron clouds, or probability waves have replaced the old billiard ball model of matter.

Yet, the classic notion of matter has affected our conceptualization of human interactions. We view the inevitable result of human billiard balls making contact and colliding as producing change, but namely to redirect or reorient our own trajectory. If the impact is great, it may cause emotions to engage and the interactions can rise to another level. Even at this level, we think that our internal environment remains unchanged, except perhaps for a brief flash of exasperation, anger, or resentment.

As the collisions become greater and more pronounced, we may acknowledge that the changes stay with us for a while, perhaps even a lifetime. The accepted modern paradigm to describe this dynamic is what I characterize as independent arising. Each of us is seen as an independent agent, a billiard ball, exerting control over what we experience. Thus, what we feel and how we respond depends on our own mind, allowing itself to experience and determine our actions. There is a level of autonomy, control, and agency we attribute to our behavior.

This model, however, is incomplete and does not explain all of human behavior. Therefore, it is time to recognize alternative explanations. One of these is that we may be more like balls of gooey chocolate when we encounter and collide with others. When we do, we leave a trace—sometimes messy, sometimes not. Therefore, it isn’t unusual to hear someone say, “I needed a shower after meeting that person.” The psychic residue of our interactions can affect our internal being, our psyche and spirit, and can be difficult to wash off. I characterize this as dependent arising.

A sophisticated description of this idea is the doctrine of dependent arising, which stands at the heart of Buddhist doctrine. It describes the principle of conditionality or the links that arise between experiences. My simple understanding of this doctrine is that these links and our experience of those links arise dependent on every other circumstance we encounter. They arise because we have a body, emotional reactivity, perceive incoming sensory information, conceptualize such information, and develop a conscious awareness of these experiences. Or, to put it in more modern terms, we are born with a body whose function is to create connections and links between experiences, add emotional valence, and reflect on them.

Martin Luther King Jr. captured the point I want to emphasize about our deep interconnectedness in what he expressed about injustice. He said, “We are caught in an inescapable network of mutuality, tied in a single garment of destiny. Whatever affects one directly affects all indirectly.” The concept of interbeing introduced by Thich Nhat Hanh also reflects our deep interconnectedness, where everything relies on everything else in order to manifest. Likewise, biologists describe how our human bodies are shared, rented, and occupied by countless other tiny organisms, without whom we couldn’t “move a muscle, drum a finger, or think a thought.” Indeed, our body is comprised of trillions of bacteria, viruses, and other such organisms. Without them, we wouldn’t be able to operate, think, feel, or speak. In fact, the analogy applies to the entire planet, which can be conceived as one giant breathing entity, with all its working parts connected in symbiosis.

We are not separate entities or exist independently, but are a continuation of one another, as Thich Nhat Hanh has argued. This garment of symbiotic mutuality that we represent gives a different perspective on what it means to be in a relationship with others. It thus calls for a rethinking of how much agency, control, and independence we actually have and to structure our spiritual path accordingly. By spiritual I mean a recognition of the validity and impact of our deep interconnectedness.

The Pale Blue Dot

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By Carl Sagan

Consider again that dot. 
That's here. That's home. That's us. 
On it everyone you love, 
Everyone you know, 
Everyone you ever heard of, 
Every human being who ever was, 
Lived out their lives. 
The aggregate of our joy and suffering, 
Thousands of confident religions, 
Ideologies, and economic doctrines, 
Every hunter and forager, 
Every hero and coward, 
Every creator and destroyer of civilization, 
Every king and peasant, 
Every young couple in love, 
Every mother and father, 
Hopeful child, inventor and explorer, 
Every teacher of morals, 
Every corrupt politician, 
Every 'superstar', 
Every 'supreme leader', 
Every saint and sinner in the history of our species lived there – 
On a mote of dust suspended in a sunbeam.

Sagan’s beautiful statement was occasioned by seeing the photograph of the earth in space as a pale blue dot. I read it recently and affected me as only beautiful poetry can. It also reminded me of what Harold Ramis, American actor, comedian, director, and writer, said about carrying two notes to remind you of who you are. The first note reads, “The universe was created for my delight.” The second note says, “I am a meaningless speck of dust in the vastness of the universe.”

Ramis’s point was that life occurs in the rhythmic oscillation between these opposite poles, of meaningfulness and meaninglessness. The rhythmic oscillation of this dance occurs outside and within your conscious awareness, but in either case, you are a participant.

Nisargadatta Maharaj, an Indian guru, offered a similar sentiment when he said, “Between looking inside and recognizing that I am nothing and seeing outside and recognizing that I am everything–my life turns.”

You, me, the earth and everyone else born in this speck of dust are both nothing and everything.  

Flashbulb Memories

Posted on by japineda

There are moments in life when we encounter, however briefly, someone or something unexpected, beautiful, perfect, beyond description, in which we sense a larger beingness. We feel at the edge of a precipice transfixed, but connected to that larger sense of ourselves. The following are flash-bulb memories from my life and from friends who contributed them. Keep them coming!

A Great Goal

The soccer game started while a band played and the crowd shouted and laughed at the old men running up and down the field in shorts and waddling midsections. The town’s fathers had gathered several prominent citizens to play a game as part of the inauguration ceremonies for a new stadium. Dad, a lawyer and judge in the small town of my birth, was a 48-year-old defender. Seconds before the end of the first half, he stole the ball at midfield and began charging forward. Suddenly and unexpectedly, he stopped, swung his right leg back and kicked a cannon shot with his right foot towards the goalie nearly 50 yards away. The crowd groaned since it seemed like wasted effort. Remarkably, and against all expectations, the ball netted, and he scored the goal–‘un golaso’ or a superb goal, as many described it. In a town where soccer was king and everyone considered themselves experts, what happened that afternoon represented a minor miracle. Dad became a momentary superstar for the magic he had created. In my imagination, there would be a parade in his honor, a small statue of him placed in the center of town, and admiration toward all his family. In his typical way, he forgot the event, put his head down, and went to work the following day. It was a beautiful and transformative lesson for me, from a truly outstanding and humble man.

The Mona Lisa

Smart beyond measure, brilliant painter, architect, sculptor, inventor, and so much more, Leonardo da Vinci has always represented for me the ideal human being. From iconic paintings, like the Mona Lisa and The Last Supper, designs for flying machines, and ground-breaking studies on optics and perspective, Leonardo da Vinci fused science with art and in the process created works that have become irreplaceable icons of the human story. He is the ultimate expression of an intuitive, unencumbered Original Mind, and someone I deeply admire. But of all his creations, the canonical example of his genius, at least for me, is the Mona Lisa. Like most of humanity, I am transfixed by this painting as reproduced in a variety of media.

In 1976, I found myself at the Louvre museum as part of a sightseeing trip to Paris. The entrance comprised a set of stairs at the top of which was the Venus de Milo. Walking up those stairs and encountering Venus felt like walking up heaven’s staircase to meet God. Yet, I did not linger with Venus for more than a few seconds, for I had one thing in mind, making my way to the Mona Lisa. I entered the room where she was hanging and remember the crowd gathered around her. My expectations, already sky-high, were off the chart as I slowly inched my way forward. Then, suddenly, there it was. I was in front of it. The shock that followed was unexpected and the disappointment earth-shattering, for I could not believe what was in front of me. In my mind, the Mona Lisa was large and yet here hung a comparably tiny version of what I held in my imagination. But that devastating emotional disappointment lasted only a brief instant, as I recognized what everyone else recognized. Here, in front of me, was the essence of beauty and something magical captured on a small canvas. For a moment, time stood still.

Joko Beck

When I met her in her late 70s, she sported short, grey hair and a grandmotherly demeanor, yet a youthful exuberance. I found her to be serious regarding her teaching and with a wonderful smile arising occasionally from her seriousness. I liked the fact she had shed many of the cultural trappings of Eastern Zen, including chanting and wearing of the robes. Joko Beck had become a well-known Zen teacher in the Pacific Beach area of San Diego. She had developed a fresh approach to teaching called “ordinary mind,” or Zen simplicity at its finest, which proved tremendously appealing. During our first encounter, the serenity surrounding her had a striking, palpable, and compelling quality. It drew me to attend Saturday meditation sessions and then three-day retreats. During each session, I met with Joko in teacher-student interviews.
            “Zen training,” she would remind me each time, “is learning how to work so you do it right, perfect in fact, with no extra anything, whether it is your job, gardening, shopping, whatever.” “In fact,” she would continue, “this requires little sitting–it’s more relating to everything in your life and taking care of it.”

“Do I need to come to the center to learn to do this?” I would ask.
            “Practice occurs anywhere and with anything,” she responded. “What happens at the center is I can provide you with encouragement and advice, but the actual practice is with your life in every moment. Life becomes your true teacher.”

My knowledge of Zen grew slowly as she imparted such wisdom during the four years I stayed as her student. After I left, our relationship turned into an apprenticeship of the heart, continuing with reading and reading of her book, “Everyday Zen.” Ever so slowly, Joko’s teaching transformed into life itself. As I walk this world, she is everywhere and I am eternally grateful.

The Bucking Horse: Chelsea Dorich

My mother once had an old Polo horse that was always going barn sour (feral). During those years, it was my job to break her so I could ride her again. I don’t know if you’ve ever seen a horse being broken for riding, but it looks very much like the bronco riding event at a rodeo.

The old mare was tall even for a thoroughbred at 17 hands. She was fast, and she was strong. She threw me off many times before, with wounds that took weeks to heal.

One afternoon, I was again trying to stay in the saddle after she started her bucking dance. I had tried so many methods of falling and failed each time. That day, I had had it. I would avoid being burnt by the arena sand or caught under those hooves again if I could help it. Instead, I would try something absolutely unthinkable. I knew I was going to crash anyway if I did not. I would try a backflip and hope I didn’t crash into the fence or break my neck or… what have you.

I had nano seconds to take my aim and jump. I was so sure I would not make it.

Low and behold, I flew, dispersing the inertia and landing on my feet in the center of the ring unscathed. I looked down to see I was just to the left of the tool used to command the horse. The old mare stopped in her tracks when she saw this and gave me much less trouble from that day forward.

That sunny afternoon I surprised myself and learned that I might be capable of more than I ever expected- I just had to try.

The Great White: Tom Krzmarzick

Exhilarating and terrifying at the same time. On a crisp, clear day in early September, I took my 12’ stand-up paddleboard or sup to South Carlsbad State beach for a cruise session from the north end of the campgrounds to the south end near the Ponto jetties and back. The cruise is usually a two-hour journey. Typically, I will try to catch a few waves while paddling south and a few more on my return trip. The weather was one of those clear, brilliant days because of a weak Santa Ana. Visibility, looking down from the board through the crystal clear and a bright blue green water, was extremely clear.

As I paddled straight out from the shore, a family of four or five dolphins immediately greeted me, heading north. The dolphins, submerged under water on my left, swam underneath surfacing on the right-hand side of the board. The exhale breathing sounds from these animals felt amazingly close. After their visit, I turned or paddled south, as the dolphins swam northward. The brilliant beauty of the sky, clear water and visit from the dolphins energized me. I continued paddling south for another five minutes, when I glimpsed a shadow behind me approximately at the 5 o’clock position from my board, using the nose as the 12 o’clock position. As the shadow approached, I turned to my back right to get a better glimpse of what it was. After the greeting by the friendly dolphins, I was fully expecting more of them. I even started to say, “hello buddies,” when I realized the creature swimming closer to me was an eight to nine-foot great white shark! It swam in an arc, staying five feet below the surface and beneath me at approximately the 3 o’clock position of the board. It continued swimming in an arc direction and then turned right towards the horizon at the 1 o’clock position.

As the shark swam out toward the horizon, my initial thought was, “Holy Shit!! What do I do?” It exhilarated as much as it terrified me. My mental processing at that moment decided it was better strategy to continue on my way south as planned. I didn’t want to panic and abruptly turn around and go back to where I had entered the water, wondering what would happen if I fell off the sup while making those maneuvers. “Relax, you will not fall off this big board, you’ve been doing this for years,” I told myself, although I decided I would not try to catch any little waves since I had no leash for the board. I didn’t wear a leash because of the waves being so small, and I had planned on just a long cruise sup paddle.

I calmed down and continued my trip south, marveling at the beauty, power, and structure of the great white and how well built it was for the water. Its tail was vertical in the water allowing it to turn on a dime; It had a grayish black top and white underside, with a diamond-shaped powerful body. How effortless it swam! How powerful it looked in the water! I truly felt fortunate to experience seeing such a great white shark living in its own environment. It made an everlasting impression.

Walking to my car in the parking lot with the sup, I felt a surge of energy I can only attest to how fortunate to have witnessed these events. As I loaded the sup board on my car, dried off and got ready to go, I saw an older surfer hanging around his car. I couldn’t resist striking a conversation and telling him what I saw and witnessed. “Hey,” I said to him, “I just saw an eight to nine-foot great white shark. Have you ever seen them out there?”. He responded calmly with a short answer, “yep, they’re out there.” Indeed, they are!

Moments of Perfection

Posted on by japineda

There are moments in life when we encounter, however briefly, something unexpected, beautiful, perfect, beyond description, in which we sense a larger beingness. We feel at the edge of a precipice transfixed, but connected to that larger sense of ourselves. I call these moments of perfection, wrapped in glory. Sometimes the overwhelming emotion can be positive but it need not be. It is, however, unforgettable. The following are my flash-bulb memories of some of those events in my life. I encourage anyone with such memories to share a short-version of them with me so that I can post on the blog.

Individuation

Although most of my life as a 3-year-old remains shrouded in mist, I vividly recall the day when I became a separate, distinct individual. Until then, I had no awareness of a separate me, only of an undifferentiated consciousness. That auspicious day, I recall wanting to play, but my 5-year-old sister Nora did not, and in that instant, shattered my world. It suddenly dawned on me, more a feeling than a conceptual understanding, that she and I were distinct, with different thoughts. It was, as I would later characterize it, a “crack in the cosmic egg of my existence.” Individuation is a normal process we all go through, but few remember. Psychologists call it the development of a theory of mind, referring to the ability to distinguish our self from others and to know others can think different thoughts. The unexpected and earth-shattering aware-feeling of becoming separate from those close to me produced a deep sadness in my young mind. It made me feel very alone in a large universe.

Going to the Moon

We were inseparable, doing everything together, including fighting like brothers. On a sunny day, when we were both four years old, we went to the moon. Hector lived next door and had become my best friend. I don’t recall how we chose our target, but the adventure did not seem beyond our childish imaginations. There was a small bed in the corridor that faced the backyard of my house, which we commandeered as our spaceship. On launch day, we sat side by side with me as pilot and Hector as co-pilot. Suddenly, the engines roared, and we were off. We took control of the ship and pointed it towards the silver silhouette in the sky. My eyes fixated on that silver moon and, ever so slowly, perceived us getting closer and closer. It seemed like the afternoon dragged on for hours as the size of our target grew bigger and bigger. I have never been able to see the “face” on the moon, but on that day I could see the craters on the surface as clearly as if only a few hundred feet above them. It was thrilling beyond words.

Finding My Way Home

I started undergraduate life at UCLA as a math major since I had done well in the subject in high school. But it quickly became apparent I did not know what I wanted to study, and switched to Engineering, then Premed, and Sociology. It did not help my confidence to be surrounded by kids much smarter than me. I struggled to get through freshman chemistry, earning a passing grade. In contrast, a friend got an ‘A’ even though he rarely studied because the material did not challenge him enough. I remember sitting side by side in class, feeling disheartened and depressed. Such feelings accompanied me to every class during that first fall and winter quarters. In spring, I enrolled in Introduction to Psychology and things took a different turn. That first day proved foreboding as I walked into a semi-circular auditorium holding 500 students, all talking at once. I settled down on a seat at the top of the auditorium, fortunate to have found one. For five minutes, I waited for the class to start. Then, a young, short-hair male with glasses and sandals, who I assumed to be the professor, approached the podium. The loud noise settled down from a roar to a murmur and then complete silence, as if a disk jockey had turned down the dial on loud music. Maybe it was the deep and mellow tenor of his voice or his charm, but soon enough, I lost track of everyone around me. Everyone literally disappeared, and I became mesmerized by the professor’s voice and stories. I had stopped thinking and just listened–totally fascinated by what he said. At the end of the class and while the auditorium emptied, I felt disoriented. What had just happened? After a few seconds, I experienced a warm feeling and a sense I had stumbled upon what had been missing. It felt like I had found my way home after being lost, and a sense of gratitude, excitement, and a budding awareness that I now knew what I needed to do. I would major in psychology.

Snow in Frankfurt

It was the weekend and time to head downtown, to an area called Sachsenhausen, a part of the old town with a mix of late-night bars, clubs, and restaurants. I had been in Frankfurt, Germany, stationed at Rhein-Main Air Force Base for only a few months. The old town was a special hangout for US airmen during our time off. The coldness of winter gripped me as I pulled my light jacket tighter while waiting for the bus. In Sachsenhausen, my friends and I gathered at the Drop-IN club where we danced with German fräuleins, drank, laughed, and relaxed from our weekly chores. Around midnight, l headed home by myself feeling happy and light-headed. I stepped off the bus stop to switch to the one headed to the air base and sat on the bench to wait. I knew it would only be a few minutes, given the punctual nature of German public transportation. As I sat there, alone on a quiet night, during the bewitching hour, it snowed. I had never experienced a snow fall and as I looked up at the sky, the most beautiful pattern of white particles against a dark sky descended on me as if in slow motion. It was mesmerizing and for a long moment, time stood still, as I sat there watching and feeling blessed by God.

The Oscillation Between Mediocrity and Uniqueness

Posted on by japineda

Cal Ag/EyeEm/EyeEm Premium / Getty
I wish to be relevant.
I do not want my ashes
In the dustbin of history.
It is a terrifying thought!

To be invisible,
To be irrelevant,
Unable to add
To the human enterprise.

Amid a pandemic,
This consuming hunger
And accompanying fear,
Rears its head.

As I shelter at home
And avoid the world,
I feel less able to add
To the human existence.

The existential crisis grows.
My insignificance is clear.
I have no ground to stand on
And I disappear.

Then, out of the ashes,
Something new is reborn.
With a new relevancy,
The relevancy of being.

Nothing to do,
Nothing to be,
No more,
No less.

This poem captures two worlds colliding in my mind at the moment. One is the world of my ego in which I am feeling distressed at being ordinary, not standing out from the crowd, being ignored by my peers and others as uninteresting or unimportant, and not having done enough to make the world a better place. I compare myself to others and find myself inadequate, as if something is missing in my personality and competence. I feel a void in the pit of my stomach, and the state of “mediocrity” becomes a frightening possibility. Like the sword of Damocles, my ego obsesses with the sense that this state of being is about to drop into my soul any minute. And I dread the thought and the feelings it engenders, namely that I will recognize this as my true nature. I recognize I rooted such fear in my development, with high expectations and a lifelong effort to excel academically and in other spheres of life. In contrast, I occasionally oscillate to another sense – that of contentment, of being special, when thinking disappears, and the world seems absolutely perfect.

This oscillation between mediocrity and uniqueness, being special and not reminds me of what Harold Ramis, a well-known American actor, comedian, director, and writer, said about carrying two notes to remind you of who you are. The first note should read, “The universe was created for my delight.” The second note should say, “I am a meaningless speck of dust in the vastness of the universe.” His point was that life occurs in the rhythmic oscillation between these two opposite poles. Living happens between meaningfulness and meaninglessness, between creative and mundane living. The rhythmic oscillation of this dance occurs both outside and within conscious awareness, but in either case, we are participants. Nisargadatta Maharaj, an Indian guru, offered something similar. He said, “Between looking inside and recognizing that I am nothing and seeing outside and recognizing that I am everything–my life turns.” You, me, and everyone else are both nothing and everything; both special and not.

So, why do I yearn for uniqueness? To be special? And for whom is all this mental anguish and activity for? Psychologically, it is my ego’s soulful cry, created by an illusion of separateness, born out of my evolutionary drive for individuality. Spiritually, however, it is the aching sense to be united with my Source.

The Butterfly Effect

Posted on by japineda
A monarch butterfly

              … here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows
higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart
             i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart) 
                                                            e.e. cummings

What would our world be like if, instead of training the young to value money and material things, they would learn to value truth, creativity, and love? If they could learn to carry the heart of the other in their own heart? Why is such a world only theoretically possible? Obviously, it is the way we have structured rewards and punishment in our dysfunctional society. That money is the basis for purchasing goods and services makes materialism, if not inevitable, then highly likely. Those with the most money get the most toys. But what if goods and services were available regardless of money? What if we rewarded nonmaterial values? We can all imagine a society where hard work, honesty, teamwork could guarantee a child a free high school and college education. Such a society could guarantee a reasonable income and work once they completed their education. Why do we consider these things noble yet highly unlikely to occur? What must we change to move us in that direction?

Let’s begin with the young and the learning they undergo. On the optimistic side, schooling, when done right, is mainly a positive thing. Children learn to be social. They get interested in science. We encourage their curious ways. Whatever goes wrong with this expectation and outcome is correctable without having to rethink what education is. I would even argue that the competition that is fostered in grade school is a good thing as well. Whether in athletics or academics, competition is a healthy motivating force. It goes wrong when it becomes entirely a selfish endeavor, with no consideration for others. Is that the clue to what takes us in the wrong direction?

Some argue that selfishness is a part of human nature; that children are the ultimate narcissists; and unless society counterbalances that drive, things will go awry. If true, then what are the social forces that provide such counterbalancing drives. I would argue that things like church, group associations, a multi-ethnic, diverse culture are important. And what is at the core of what these institutions teach? I would say they teach us empathy; to put ourselves in the shoes of the other; to carry their heart in our own heart. Empathy is the counter to selfishness. Unfortunately, these countervailing forces in society are currently losing authority or producing an unnatural backlash. This is the root of the problem. The lack of a counter to our selfish drive is creating narcissistic individuals not interested in others. Of course, we are talking about massive generational, value- and age-based changes going on in the world. Is there one small thing that can change this inevitable storm?

Some argue that the world is a chaotic, dynamical system. In such a system, the fluttering of a butterfly in South America can have a significant effect on the weather in North America. Perhaps this essence of chaos theory applies to the chaos of social turbulence we are experiencing. Many answers about which behavior would be most effective are possible. But the one that rings most true, and which lies at the root of the root of the answer, is love—unconditional love. Love is empathy in action. Learn to love in this way. Teach others to love without judgment. This small beating of your wings might just change the turbulence you and all of us are experiencing.